


Rough Nights

by danithegirl



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Loathing, Titus is here and just trying to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 15:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danithegirl/pseuds/danithegirl
Summary: Tim is under way too much stress, and he finds comfort in an unlikely friend.





	Rough Nights

It had been a rough couple of days. The beginning of the end was really the night before, when Tim skipped patrol to cram for an exam. It was in his physics class, which he had already missed around four classes of. It wasn’t supposed to be terribly difficult, but he missed a lot of material, and he had been so busy with work that school had fallen to the wayside a little bit. He was hoping that he’d feel more confident after taking the test, but even then he wasn’t convinced that he didn’t fail. The last thing Tim needed was to flunk a class that he needed for his major, but he had busy lately and work plus vigilante life hadn’t made things any easier on him. Then there were lots of problems at the office, per usual when he was already weighed down with stress. People not fulfilling commitments, things out of order, the general Friday night insanity around Wayne Enterprises. Then tonight, within not even the first ten minutes of patrol, Tim had twisted his ankle on a landing. He would have toppled right off the edge of the building if it weren’t for Dick yanking him back by the cape. Which was good, because he didn’t die, but also bad because the incident left a bruise around his neck because maybe Dick’s big brother instincts were a little too strong. 

He’d been sent back to the cave immediately and had to sit through a lecture from Bruce about patrolling when over-exhausted. The hypocrite. Tim wasn’t in the mood to fight back OR to hear the full lecture, so he listened for what was about half of the speech, and then ignored Bruce’s shouts after him as he stormed up the stairs and into his room as best he could on a bandaged foot.

As he limped through the manor on his freshly wrapped foot, he tried to swallow down the frustration building in him. At Bruce, at school, at work, at himself. It was just too much all at once. He felt ridiculous because they weren’t even major problems, and that only served to make him angrier at himself. On his way up the stairs, he walked by Damian, who stopped to watch him pass. Tim tried to just keep his eyes ahead and keep moving. “What happened to you?” Damian asked. Tim wished it were a snotty comment, because then he could be angry at someone besides himself, but it was really just an honest question. And when Tim responded with a mumbled “fuck off” and kept walking, hot shame burned his throat as he felt his little brother’s eyes follow him until he was out of sight. He didn’t mean it, he wasn’t trying to pick a fight, but he couldn’t deal with it right now, so he pushed it back in his mind.

Tim flopped down on the bed and felt a weird sickness in his stomach and chest. He had disappointed Bruce. Dick too, probably Alfred as well. Poor Dick had to save his ass and now he felt guilty because he left a blossoming purple ring around Tim’s neck. Only Dick would feel guilty about saving someone’s life. Tim mentally berated himself, figuring he deserved it. Why did he overwork himself again? He knew he was exhausted, he knew Bruce would be upset, but he did it anyways. But at the same time, why did Bruce always expect so much of him? Why was he such a damn hypocrite? Why couldn’t Tim keep anything in his life from crumbling apart like always? And why the hell does he always have to be such a jerk to Damian? Sure he was a brat most of the time, but what Tim just did was uncalled for. The shame and frustration built again in Tim’s chest, burned behind his cheeks. Maybe Tim should’ve just fallen—

Tim’s fist slammed down on the mattress as he buried his face into his pillow. His throat ached, partially from the bruise forming there, but mostly from something else. Tim swallowed against it and felt the ache throughout his chest come in waves. His eyes stung with exhaustion and he suddenly wanted to scream, or maybe run, or punch something, or do ANYTHING. 

He startled as a weight suddenly pulled down the mattress beside him. He turned his head expecting maybe Dick or Alfred, but he was met with a black nose in his face and suddenly a rough tongue licking his cheek.

“Eugh, Titus, get off,” Tim groaned as he pushed the drooling dog out of his face. Titus’s ears folded back for a moment, but the next, he was wagging his tail and sniffing at Tim’s white t-shirt curiously. 

Tim looked up to the door. How did Titus even get in? He thought he had closed the door, but he figured it was possible it didn’t shut all the way and Titus just pushed through. Tim sighed. “What do you want, dog?”

Titus looked up at the sound of his name and sniffed at Tim’s hair when he shielded his face with an arm. Tim let the dog sniff him for a minute before he gently pushed him back. Before Tim could stop him, the dog had stepped over Tim’s back and flopped down right on top of him. “Titus,” Tim started to argue, but the dog yawned and settled quickly, seemingly very comfortable draped over the small of Tim’s back. The dogs eyes shut within seconds, like he was trying to set an example. At least someone in the house was. Tim sighed and shifted his weight some so the huge dog wouldn’t restrict his breathing. 

After a few moments, Tim settled as well. It was oddly comforting to have the warm, heavy weight of the dog on his back. “I’m kind of an asshole, you know,” he spoke quietly to the dog. He realized, somehow, he didn’t feel silly talking to a dog. Maybe that’s why Damian loved him so much. “Especially to Damian,” he confessed. “I know you love him, dog, and I kinda see why sometimes. But every time he tries to actually care, every time he reaches out, I ruin it.” The dog nudged his nose into Tim arm briefly, maybe trying to comfort him. 

Some of the sickness in his stomach melted away and his tired frustration slipped into sleepiness. Tim buried his hands under the pillow and smushed his face into it. He tried to focus on his breathing, keep it even and deep. He felt the dog rise and fall with the slight movement of his own back on each inhale and exhale. Tim was acutely aware of the animal’s heartbeat he could feel through his shirt. Of the warmth, the slow movements, the quiet puffs of breath from the dog. It was a therapeutic type of weight, holding him down and easing his anxiety away.

Before Tim knew it, he was slipping into a restful sleep with the warm pressure on his back of another living body. Vaguely, Tim wondered if Damian would be wondering where his dog went. Or if he would kill him soon for kidnapping his friend. He wondered if Damian would be angry tomorrow, for Tim being an asshole earlier. Just before Tim slipped completely into sleep, however, he heard the quiet click of his bedroom door closing, and those worries, too, slipped away.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a part two of this for sure, I've already got it drafted! I hope you like it! <3 I love stories about Titus and also about Damian secretly and discretely taking care of his brothers :)


End file.
